Wherein Blaine is a Crazy Cat Lady
by Calendulam
Summary: Kurt's impending move to New York may be upsetting Blaine far more than he is letting on. Cue Kurt and a plan to help soften the blow.


Once again my title is too long for this site.

I don't own Glee. Feedback would be loved.

~0~

**Wherein Blaine Is Well On His Way to Becoming a Crazy Cat Lady**

"Dude, did you and Kurt get in a fight or something?" Finn asks as soon as he opens the Hummels' front door. He squeezes his massive frame through the small opening he's made and joins Blaine on the front step instead of inviting him inside.

"No. Of course not. What's going on?"

"He's baking again like he does when he gets stressed. Like before his NYADA audition and that time Burt had a bad doctor's appointment. And if it's not a fight with you, I have no idea what's going on with him. It's even worse than usual, man. He's _eating_ what he cooks. He never does that. I swear he spent like half an hour yakking in the bathroom after he ate all those choco-nut cookies. What a waste."

"Is he okay?"

"I dunno. I tried to ask him but he looked about ready to stab me with his cookie flipper so I backed away quietly. He scares me when he gets like that."

"I'll talk to him."

"Good luck, dude." Finn opens the door and motions Blaine inside, throwing him one last nervous glance before lumbering up the stairs to hide out in the safety of his room.

The entire house smells like baked goods. Blaine wanders into the kitchen where Kurt is muttering to himself and breaking eggs into a large mixing bowl and throwing the empty shells into the sink. He is coated in flour and God knows what else.

"Hey," Blaine says quietly, as not to startle him. Kurt jumps anyway and wipes a hand across his brow, smearing himself with more baking detritus.

"Hi," Kurt answers, his voice low and scratchy. He clears his throat before continuing. "I was just..." he motions to the disarray surrounding him.

"Baking, yeah. I see that." Blaine begins collecting used bowls and utensils and measuring implements and placing them in the sink as Kurt stands mutely by and watches him. He wipes down the nearly empty countertop when he's finished and wets a napkin. "You want to tell me what's going on, Kurt?" he asks, very gently wiping flour and smudges of chocolate from the smooth planes of his boyfriend's face.

Kurt's eyes fill with tears and he shakes his head.

Blaine wipes the napkin down Kurt's adorable up-turned nose and across his cheek. "But I can't do anything to help if you don't tell him how I can."

"You can't help. Not with this." A lone tear escapes the hold of Kurt's lashes and tracks down over his cheek and drips from his wobbly chin.

"Kurt, please. I'm really worried now. Tell me what's wrong and we'll figure something out, okay?"

Kurt nods with a sniff and wipes angrily at his wet eyes. "You talk in your sleep. Did you know?"

"Umm... yeah. I do that sometimes. Did I say something to upset you? Babe, it was probably just some dumb dream. Hey – "

"No, it wasn't. You... yesterday when we fell asleep in your room. I'm... Do you feel like I'm abandoning you?" Kurt's voice breaks over the last word and Blaine holds his forearms in a vice-grip.

"No, Kurt. Of course not. I would never want you to put your dreams on hold because of me."

"You said: _I can't believe you're going to just leave me here. I thought you loved me, Kurt_."

Blaine pulls Kurt into his arms and holds him while he gives in to the tears and his body shakes with the force of his sobs. "Oh, God, Babe. It was just a dream. I'm not upset with you, I promise. I _promise_. I'll miss you like mad, but no. I want you to go."

Pulling back, Kurt's wide, teary eyes meet Blaine's. "It won't even be a full year. And you'll come to pick out our apartment with us. And help me decorate our room. Because it will be _ours_, Blaine, when you come and join me. Less than a year and we'll be living together and we can sleep together and hold each other, just like in that stupid Beach Boys song."

"I know, Kurt. And it's going to be amazing. I'm not going to pretend that the next year isn't going to suck, but we'll make it through. And it will all be worth it in the end. Okay?"

Kurt sniffs and wipes his eyes again and looks around at the semi-destroyed kitchen. "I went through five pounds of flour," he says with a sigh. "And you don't even want to know how much butter."

"It's okay. Just no more baking, alright? I don't know what is freaking Finn out more, the fact that you're going all kamikaze stress baker or the fact that he hasn't been allowed to reap the benefits."

Kurt brushes off the front of his apron and looks disgusted with himself. "I ate an entire plate of cookies. And then I threw up."

"I heard." Kurt groans and covers his face. "Next time talk to me, okay? If you're upset enough to buy Whole Foods out of organic unbleached flour."

"Okay. I promise."

~0~

Kurt seems wrong somehow, hesitant when he enters Blaine's bedroom. His eyes are large and look slightly wet like he's trying not to cry. He's fidgeting in a wholly un-Kurt-like manner, clutching a handled basket with hands that are trembling in nervousness.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks, sitting straighter on his bed and pushing his history homework to one side. "What's wrong?"

"Oh!" Kurt says; the voice he puts on is shaky and false. "Nothing at all. I just... I brought you something."

Blaine grins. Is Kurt just worried he isn't going to like a gift? Kurt picks out the best gifts ever, like that is even a possibility. He pats the bed next to him. "Come on over."

"Um... not yet. I just want to explain first. About the..." he motions to the basket hooked around his arm and Blaine nods, eyeing it with confusion. "So, I was, um... I was talking to your mother."

"Okay? And she suggested you bring me a picnic?"

Kurt shakes his head distractedly and looks around the room. "No. I... She... It's just... _Blaine._"

Blaine watches Kurt struggle for words, his heart picking up speed, his stomach coiled with nerves. What is Kurt trying to tell him? Panic strikes him and he swallows the lump that appears in his throat. He is being broken up with. He is sure of it. Why else would Kurt be so hesitant and upset? And why had he spoken to Blaine's mom about it? Had she suggested that breaking up might be easier on him than a long distance relationship? Because that is insanity. "_Please_," he hears himself whisper aloud, never meaning for it to have left his lips.

"She said..." Kurt continues, heedless to Blaine's pained plea. "The incident with the sleep-talking last week... well, that wasn't a one time occurrence, apparently."

"Oh."

"Yeah. _Oh_. You've been having bad dreams."

"Yes."

"Bad enough to wake up your mother."

"Yes."

"About me leaving."

Blaine closes his eyes against the buildup of tears he can feel threatening. "Yes."

"Blaine, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you got so upset before! How could I? I couldn't have you thinking that I want you to stay behind because of me, that I'm that selfish. They're just dreams, Kurt. I know none of that stuff is actually going to happen."

"What stuff?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

"Of course it is! It's upsetting you, Blaine. How can you say it's not important?"

"I just dream about you in New York," Blaine says with a shrug. "Getting swept up in the city and changing your mind."

"Changing my mind about what?" Kurt's voice is soft, his eyes sad.

"About us. That you'll stop calling, that you won't want me to visit, that you won't want me to follow you. That you won't want _me_." Blaine has been telling himself that the dreams mean nothing, but speaking about them aloud and even worse, aloud to Kurt, he feels the same crippling nighttime anxiety take hold of him.

"Blaine, there is no way in hell that is ever going to happen. I will _always_ want you."

"I know. I believe you. I trust you. I trust _us_. Like I said, they're only dreams." Blaine pauses for a moment, watching his fingers, wondering when exactly he began clutching his duvet like it might keep him from sinking into nothingness. "So what exactly were you discussing with my mother?"

Kurt fidgets a little and glances down into the basket. "Well, I just... It's probably stupid, but I was reading this article about separation anxiety – which I know isn't exactly what is going on here – but I thought it might help. It said that it sometimes does." Kurt shifts on his feet, steadying the basket which appears to be wobbling around on its own.

"Kurt, is there something _alive_ in that basket?"

"Yeah, I kind of... I okayed it with your parents first. But if you don't want it, Carole got very attached and I'm sure she'd love to – "

"Kurt, please come here and sit with me. Please. You're making me nervous standing over there like that."

Kurt moves towards the bed, removing the basket from the crook of his elbow and setting it down in front of Blaine. A tiny, white ball of fluff pokes its head up over the side and stares at Blaine with wide, unblinking eyes.

"A dog probably would have been better, but I figured... I know I get miffed with you when you say it, but you're always going on about how I remind you of a cat, so..."

"You said cats are evil."

"Well, they kind of are. So, you know, thanks for that."

"No they aren't," Blaine says with a grin. "They're independent and intelligent and ferocious and fabulous." When he reaches out to stroke the kitten it flattens its ears to its head and hisses at him, showing tiny, pointed teeth.

"They're bitches."

Blaine laughs and pets the kitten, regardless of its ire. "So... You got me a kitten. You got me a pure white, blue-eyed kitten." Blaine smile widens at Kurt's blush.

"The vet says the eyes will eventually change colour and be more blue-green-grey."

"Like yours."

Kurt heaves a world-weary sigh and sits on the edge of the bed. "Yes."

"Oh my God, you got me a Kurt cat."

"It's not a _Kurt cat_. It's just a cat. And a word of warning: it bites."

"So a Kurt cat then."

"Shut up."

An hour later the three of them are lying together on Blaine's bed, the kitten cuddled up in the space between Blaine's neck and shoulder, its needle-like claws kneading his shirt while it purrs like a motorboat and flicks its tiny, pink tongue over his chin.

"His little bitty tongue is rough like sandpaper," Blaine coos.

"Getting kinda jealous over here, Blaine. I didn't mean for the cat to actually _replace_ me."

Blaine laughs and runs the tip of his nose over the kitten's head. "So soft," he says in a baby voice.

Kurt sighs and lays his head on Blaine's other shoulder. The kitten stops licking Blaine's face and hisses at him. "Screw you," he grumbles.

~0~

"I think I finally named him," Blaine announces, catching Kurt at his locker between classes.

"Named who?"

"My Kurt cat."

"It's not a... Oh, never mind. " Kurt rolls his eyes and sighs. "So, what are you naming it?"

"Well, this morning Coach Sylvester passed me in the hall and she gave me a nod and said: 'Good morning, Porcelain's pocket-sized boytoy.'"

"Um... and you were okay with this?"

Blaine shrugs his shoulders, still looking excited. "And I thought: _Porcelain._ It's perfect!"

"So, in a roundabout way, you're naming your cat after me."

"Yes. Objections?" Blaine raises an eyebrow and smiles.

"I... You know what? Never mind. Name your cat after me if you want." Kurt turns back to his locker and begins swapping out the books in his messenger bag.

"Why does it feel as though you're only letting me get away with it out of guilt?"

"Because I totally am."

Blaine places a hand on Kurt's back and rubs gently. "Babe, I'm going to be fine. Me and Porcelain. We're already the best of friends. We cuddle and watch movies and he sleeps on my head at night. He hardly even bites me anymore. I do worry about leaving him alone during the day, though."

"Because he might go on a killing spree and drink the blood of virgins, et cetera?" Kurt mutters, rummaging through his locker in search of a book.

"Because he might be lonely. Maybe I should get him a friend."

"Oh God, what have I done?" Kurt stuffs the book into his bag and slams his locker closed, turning to face Blaine. "You're going to turn into a crazy cat lady, aren't you? We're going to be living in a tiny New York apartment, Blaine. There is only room for the one vampire cat, okay?"

"Fine," Blaine grumbles.

"One cat, Blaine."

"Yes, dear."

~0~

There is another short, silly bit of this but it has graphics so I couldn't post it here. If you're interested, it can be found at my LJ.

water-nix(.)livejournal(.)/4704(.)html


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